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And she threw her arms ecstatically about his neck. Eugene kissed her affectionately. He was not thinking so much of her though as he was of Kellner and Son their great exhibit room, the appearance of these twenty-seven or thirty great pictures in gold frames; the spectators who might come to see; the newspaper criticisms; the voices of approval.
Follow the road there till you come to Widow Gardiner's hog-lot, then turn to your left, and it's about a quarter of a mile on. The only house up that way you can't miss it." The agent stood squinting at them, with friendly inquiry radiating from his parchment-like countenance, and Mr. Birnes took an opportunity to ask some other questions. "By the way, what sort of old man is this Mr. Kellner?
Marvin, and, as Miss Alice cheerfully accepted it in that light, I do not see why I may not end my story with happiness to all concerned. It was the sacred hour of noon at Sammtstadt. Everybody was at dinner; and the serious Kellner of "Der Wildemann" glanced in mild reproach at Mr. James Clinch, who, disregarding that fact and the invitatory table d'hote, stepped into the street. For Mr.
For one instant he paused, and there came a clatter and clamor from somewhere in the rear of the house. He closed the door with a grim smile. "Which are the detectives?" asked Miss Kellner, in an awed whisper. "I don't see them around just now," he replied. "We can get a cab at the corner."
Of dreams and the beauty of dreams is the world compounded." Kellner and Son, purveyors of artistic treasures by both past and present masters, with offices in Fifth Avenue near Twenty-eighth Street, was the one truly significant firm of art-dealers in the city.
Birnes, and the men of his agency, to find out about me, and, if possible, to find out whom I represented, so they might locate the supply? I wouldn't tell them, because it was not desirable that they should deal directly with Mr. Kellner, who was old and childish, and lacking, perhaps, in appreciation of the real value of diamonds.
Delverton to-night," he said, "and I asked him if I might bring you. He returned to town at the beginning of the week, and I have seen him two or three times, once at the office in Austin Friars. I did not see Kellner, he happened to be away that day." Martin Delverton lived in Dorchester Square, rather a pompous house, and he was rather a pompous individual.
Wynne seemed startled, and turned his clear eyes full upon his interrogator, seeking the hidden meaning. "Yes, but " he began slowly. "That's true, isn't it?" demanded the chief, with quick violence. "Yes, that's true," Mr. Wynne admitted calmly. "Therefore, indirectly, it would have been to your advantage if Mr. Kellner had died or had been killed?"
"Does it occur to you that every argument I advanced to furnish you with a motive for the crime might be applied with equal weight against against Miss Kellner?" "Doris!" flamed Mr. Wynne. For the first time his perfect self-possession deserted him, and he came to his feet with gripping hands. "Why why ! What are you talking about?" "Sit down," advised the chief quietly. Mr.
Art dealers would surely buy them! Still, now that he was on the ground again and could see the distinctive art shops from the sidewalks his courage failed him. They were not running after pictures. Exceptional as he might be, there were artists in plenty good ones. He could not run to other well known art dealers very well for his work had become identified with the house of Kellner and Son.
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